


Stick Around

by jcksnwhttsmrs



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: CAPS, Capitals, F/M, Hockey, Washington, Washington Capitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 13:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcksnwhttsmrs/pseuds/jcksnwhttsmrs





	Stick Around

“Wilson, if you think I’m going to stick around forever, you’re wrong. I’ll leave!” you threatened. You had that statement memorized by now. In was nearly every day that you said it at this point because there was always something new to fight about and you were always going to have the last word. It was usually through a slammed door, but you knew he’d heard you all the same. It used to be fun, once upon a time ago. When you first met and it was all flirty looks across the room and rushing feelings when you hooked up somewhere you shouldn’t have been. Even moving in with him was great, you got the christen all the new places in the house correctly and when you went out, you could both get drunk because the only people you ever got handsy with were each other.

You don’t even really know where it all went downhill because it seemed perfect. But maybe it was the fact that Tom felt like he could live in that stage of his life forever. You, now in grad school didn’t really want to go out and party anymore. You probably had studying to do. You wanted to get a dog and he thought it was stupid. You asked him if he thought a dog would be stupid or if he thought commitment would be stupid. He never answered you. He bitched the whole drive to meet your parents for the first time, but shmoozed them the entire time he was there. He found little ways to get on your nerves, and you didn’t think it was funny anymore. 

You were sure you did the same to him too, though. You didn’t hold back in flirting with other people anymore and stayed late at the office when you knew you told him you’d make dinner. It was more like a game at this point. This go around it was him expecting you to go with him to Andre’s party and you not wanting to. You told him you weren’t a trophy wife and he said of course you weren’t because you weren’t married. You told him because of him dragging his feet and never wanting to commit, you never would be either. That’s when he slammed the bedroom door and you were here, arms crossed over your shirtless-chest because you were mid-change when he decided to fight. 

“Good, get the fuck out of here then already,” he said and that was a new one. Usually he ignored you. And you both simmered down in separate rooms. Sometimes you even had some pretty good makeup sex when it was a really petty argument. He’d never answered you. And he’d never told you to actually go. You huffed and opened the bedroom door to see him, ruffling through the closet himself. You slipped passed him to get a new shirt, and put on a pair of shoes. 

You grabbed your bag off the end table, and sped out of the room. “I’m going,” you told him. He followed you.

“To the party?” he asked.

You held onto the door handle before turning to him. “No, I’m getting the fuck out of here already,” you said, quoting him and you hoped he heard how much you thought those words tasted like poison. 

You slammed the door behind you and sat in your car. You didn’t really know where to go. You didn’t really have friends anymore. Most of anyone you ever saw was because of Tom. “Fuck it,” you said before pulling away, headed for Andre’s. The kid let you in with his usual goofy smile.

“Wilso not coming?” he asked and you frowned.

“We came separate. I can go, I just…I didn’t know where else to go,” you said with a shrug. Andre led you to the kitchen, and took a deep breath. He was used to the two of you fighting all the time and you felt bad.

You knew he looked up to Tom, almost like a father. And that would make you the mother, and him the child of a nasty divorce. “Well drink as much as you need to,” he said, pulling a bottle of your favorite wine out of the fridge before pushing it toward you. Tom didn’t even know that about you. 

“You’re too good to me, kid,” you said, popping the cork out with ease. You were three glasses in when Tom showed up, and you rolled your eyes. You hadn’t even mingled with anyone. You just kept a glass in your hand as you sat up on the counter in the kitchen. It was the only friend you needed.

“What are you doing?” he said, softly coming over to you. 

“Drinking and forgetting,” you said. He sounded fed up and you sounded salty.

“Forgetting what?” he asked.

“You,” you said, poking him in the chest. He swallowed and looked down before leaning his hands on the counter at your sides.

“Aren’t you tired of this?” he asked.

You picked your feet up, placing them on the counter and hugging your knees. “Tired of what?” you asked.

“Us,” he said, sounding like you had when you said it was him you were forgetting.

“Four years. Four years, and now you’re tired of us?” you asked. Neither of you had talked about the future and that should have been a good indication that he didn’t think you had one, but you always assumed it would be Tom you were fighting with every night. 

“You can’t tell me you’re not?” he asked. “This shit’s supposed to be easy. This isn’t easy,” he said.

You hopped off the counter and slid by him, to pour yourself another glass of wine. You needed it now. He followed you. “We’re never going to work on it. We’re just going to be stuck here until one of us cheats or I get traded,” he said, and the tears brimming in your eyes finally barreled over.

The truth was you were probably more scared of being alone than you were of spending the rest of your life with him. He was right. You gulped down wine, until he gently pushed the glass from your mouth. “Come on,” he said and he sounded sincere. “We can talk about this tomorrow, but I think…maybe we should…” he couldn’t finish his sentence. 

“Maybe we should finally put it to rest?” you suggested. 

“Yeah,” he said and somehow it comforted you that it looked like it hurt him. You placed the glass on the counter and wrapped your arms around him in a hug, burying your face in his chest. He slowly put his arms around you too. You couldn’t remember the last time you did this. “If you think I’m gonna stick around forever, you’re wrong,” you said, almost like you were joking with him. He ran his hands through your hair a few times.

“Go on then,” he said but this time it sounded more like he was urging you on. Telling you to go on and find something better, God knows you deserved it.


End file.
